


Inheritance

by crybabyprescott (Leslie_Withers)



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Kidnapping, Mental Health Issues, Other, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Trauma, anti-romance, more to come - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-25 14:11:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9824015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leslie_Withers/pseuds/crybabyprescott
Summary: It's been some long eleven years, but not long enough for Jefferson to be released from jail and be granted a new beginning.Nathan finds himself wandering the streets of San Francisco, and maybe for the first time, he knows what he needs to do to reset the past and strip himself from his fear.





	1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

It was incomprehensible how Jefferson got off so lightly. Only eleven years in jail, released early on good behaviour; moving into an urban backstreet home as if nothing ever happened.  
This was nothing, not for over twenty victims. It wasn't fair, it wasn't justice.

But Nathan was about to change that. He knew what was about to happen, and there was something horrifyingly satisfying in having the upperhand this time, maybe for the first time ever.

Mark Jefferson didn't know what was coming for him.

Nathan strode down the streets, mimicking confidence; pulling his phone out of his coat pocket to check the time, and reassure himself he had the correct adress. At least it was fair play Jefferson was put on the Sex Offender Registry.  
Nathan didn't even know if it was for what he did to him, or what he did to the girls.  
Even after all this time, there was no way he could patch the gaps in his memory, no way to know what really happened to Rachel, to Kate, to all the other names on all these other red binders.  
But it was over. He would never know either way, and now he needed to focus on the task ahead of him.  
It was 11:43pm, the 23rd of January, he was in San Francisco, Lancaster Street. It was cold, the sky was a deep purple, a telltale sign for it to snow.  
The adress he found in the NSOPW mobile app matched, and it was time to get to the dreary part of actually getting inside his flat.

Stealth was never his strong suit, but he learned over the years to make due with it; often the direct approach was the easiest. Hesitating for a couple seconds, he simply rang the doorbell.

For a moment, nothing happened; the young man got nervous, pulled his coat closer around his body, but then Nathan heard a short click, some static noise, an inhale, an exhale.

  
"Hello?"

Soft and composed, just like he remembered. Hearing Jefferson's voice after all these years made him feel sick, but there was no time to waste on panic. His right hand slipped inside his pocket, and he steadied himself, leaving his normal slouched posture behind.

He was in control now.

"Hi, is this Mark Jefferson? Sorry to bother you so late. I live across the road, a package for you has been delivered to me. Looks pretty important, can I bring it up?"

There was silence on the other end, and for a moment, Nathan was sure he had fucked up good. It was a cheap lie, no matter how gullible he had tried to sound, and suddenly, Jefferson felt like this untouchable entity again, like he did when Nathan was a kid - impossible to trick or lie to. But then the buzzer went, and he could press the door open, and that meant the most important part was out of the way; but he still needed to stay calm.

The door bell indicated he had to go to the third story of the building; he paced up in a casual step, his right hand remaining in his coat pocket, his left hand holding a small parcel. It was empty, but it only needed to fool his former mentor for long enough to get him to open the door.  
It was inconvenient that he lived in a flat, seeing as there were three other parties living in the building; even now that he left his teenage years far behind, he's never been one to keep things still and quiet.  
When he reached the door, it was still closed, but he heard movement behind it; probably the old bastard looking through the door spy. Maybe he had learned to exchange some of his arrogance for a healthy portion of paranoia; he was right to be paranoid, but it wouldn't help him now. It was too late.

"Uh, do you want me to just put the package in front of the door?"  
A soft sigh, and the lock clicked. Way too easy. Nathan almost took offense that he wasn't recognized, that his voice didn't leave an imprint, that Jefferson didn't memorize the colour of his hair. No matter what Nathan did, Jefferson wouldn't leave his mind. At night he could feel his hands on him, breathed in his scent, even felt his short hair tickle his cheek - he wasn't even sure if this had actually ever happend, but this man's ghost would just walk circles around him.

There was a look of complete horror on his old teacher's face when he had opened the door, and Nathan had pulled his hand out of his coat, holding a loaded Glock right at his face; it made more than up for all the sleepless nights.

  
"Ssshh, it's okay," Nathan whispered softly, just like Mark had whispered to him, so many years ago. He released the safety on his gun and took a step forward, trying not to smirk. Be steady. Be calm.

"I don't want to hurt you. I just need you to let me inside."


	2. Like Father

Chapter 1: Like Father

Against Nathan's predictions, it wasn't particularily messy business.  
He had told Jefferson to sit on one of his white metal kitchen chairs, gun lowered at his side, and the older man had complied, just like that. No questions, just this curious look, raised eyebrows, and dark brown eyes following Nathan while the latter examined the flat.

From Jefferson, the young man would have expected a neater living space; although it was nearly impossible to keep such a small place free of clutter.  
Searching the highest rack of the bookshelf, tiptoeing to reach, he had discovered a small stash of money, tucked away carefully in a collection of Diane Arbus' assorted works. He pocketed it, continuing his search without a comment. It's not like Jefferson would need it anymore anyway.

It took a while to find what he was looking for, but he did, and he held it out for Jefferson, one eyebrow raised.  
"I knew you'd get back what you can, fucker."  
No answer, just that same smug look on his face. Whatever; the longer he stayed here, the more risky this whole operation would get, so he quickly stuffed the folder in his black messenger bag, and stepped up to Jefferson to grab his arm.

"We're going. Think fast if you want to pack something. Do you have any medication you need to take?"

Silence. More of it.

"Fine." Tucking the gun back into his pocket, he opened the apartment door, and waited for Jefferson to lock it, before he grabbed the keys from him.

“I’m taking these.“  
Hurrying down the stairs, he made sure Jefferson was close behind him, but their steps echoing in the hallway made his old teacher's close vicinity unquestionable.

When he opened the door to the street, a gust of wind touselled his hair, and he stepped out into the lamp-lit streets.  
Nathan tried to look relaxed on the way to his car, as if he was just enjoying the cold evening air; in reality, he was freezing.  
His mentor had yet to speak a word, but Jefferson kept staring at him, like a vulture leering at its prey.

Nathan knew that look.  
He tried not to care.  
Back then, he had let Jefferson pick his bones dry.

While opening the door to his car, the thought crossed his mind that he didn't have to do this. That he could just stay miserable, and not change anything. If he let Jefferson go, Nathan had the illusion that there was still something about them, that he would refrain from pressing charges.

No... No. He had to do this. He had to reset everything, everything had to go back to what it was.  
It had to.

He waited for Jefferson to get in the car, before getting in himself, instantly locking it. He still missed his red SUV; it hadn't been the fanciest car, but it had served him well. He didn't know what happened to it after his arrest; his father probably sold it off. His new car was, well, old. Some 90s model, a faded black. Everything in his life seemed to be a faded black now, but it was alright.  
This would fix it. He would fix it. Everything would be okay.

Nathan didn't start the car up right away. Instead he assessed Mark Jefferson, carefully, slowly.  
He had gained some weight, and his hair was not the deep dark brown like it was back then; streaks of grey started peeking through. Lines around his eyes; god, he looked so tired.

"You got old," Nathan stated bluntly, before breaking his stare and opening the glovebox. There were various palettes of pills scattered inside, and Nathan searched for a specific one, eyes narrowed.

"I guess that's impossible to avoid. Then again, you didn't change much, did you? Nathan."

The young man stopped in his tracks, giving Jefferson a disgruntled look. It was true; he might have grown a bit, packed a healthy amount of weight on himself, but his face was still the same; almost a child's face, and he could imagine Jefferson saw the same look in his eyes.

_A flash.  
Oh, those eyes of yours..._

Nathan gritted his teeth and kept rummaging, finally finding what he had been searching for. After slamming the compartment shut, he wasted no time in pressing two pills out of the foil.

Lorazepam, 2.5mg per pill. Self-dissolving.  
He held them out for Jefferson, leaning in close.

"Shut up and open your mouth."  
The older man hesitated - for the first time. He had been suspiciously compliant and quiet during Nathan's entire break-in, he didn't even bat an eye; leaned back, watched him go about his business. Not anymore.  
Jefferson made eye contact with Nathan, and Nathan remembered that this was a bad sign; he remembered this look from all those years ago. Mark Jefferson was up to something; he was about to act.

The young man closed his hand, wrapping his fingers around the pills, before reciprocating the look he was given; a tired, nervous smile twisting his features.

Then, without a warning, Nathan slammed his forehead between his former teacher‘s eyes, hearing an instant crack.  
He paused for a second, taking in the shock as he watched Jefferson's head drop against the window slowly.  
Reaching out, Nathan hastily examined him, his hand shaking, before he exhaled in relief.  
That old man's glasses just broke; Jefferson himself was fine enough. Losing the fight to regain consciousness, but nevertheless. It wasn't what the young man had planned, but it was what he needed right now. With trembling hands, he removed the glasses from Jefferson's face to pocket them, then dug his fingers into his cheeks, forcing his mouth open, pressing both pills down on his tongue with his thumb, watching them dissolve within seconds.

After a few minutes, the man was still, breathing steadily, and Nathan took the time to lean back and close his eyes for a moment, trying to calm himself. Groaning softly, he held his own head, something warm and wet trickling through his fingers.  
Fuck.  
He adjusted the rearview mirror to look at himself, and saw a thick line of blood running down his forehead. What a bullshit strike... But in the end Jefferson was down, and Nathan was not, that was all that mattered. 

He carelessly wiped the blood with his sleeve, before starting up the car.

_________________

It had started snowing by the time he was back in Arcadia Bay, and everytime he left the small, forgotten coastal town, it felt weird coming back. But this was his home now, not Florida.  
It never stopped being hard to accept, though.

The small suburbian house Nathan had stopped in front was in need of renovation at best, but it was the last act of mercy his father had bestowed upon him after his release five years ago, and it was leagues better than what scum like him usually got.  
Pulling into the driveway, he huffed as soon as the motor was silent, slouching into his seat.  
After driving the entire night, he needed a serious caffeine fix. But first, he needed to get through the obstacle course that was dragging Jefferson into his designated place.

He pushed the car door open and stepped outside into the cold, the snow covering the small property. Nathan walked around the car and opened the door, kneeling next to Jefferson to see if he could get him to wake up.

"Jeff?" A small slap on his cheek and his eyes fluttered open. Nathan could hear a small, suppressed groan coming from him; yet, he didn't make any notion that indicated he'd get out of the car. Nathan rolled his eyes, grabbed a handful of snow, and slapped it against the man's cheek.

Jefferson instantly shrieked, coughing for some reason, and leaned forward to hold his head, which was likely aching like crazy; if Nathan's own headache was any indicator.

"You little fucking brat...!"  
"Shut up and get moving. I'll help you, but I can't fucking carry your heavy as fuck ass."

Pulling the other up, the younger man wrapped Jefferson's arm around his shoulder to steady him, slamming the door to his car shut with his free hand.

It was an ordeal to get him inside the house and down the stairs; their steps just never synced up, and Nathan was glad no soul ever visited this area. His father had probably thought he'd be vile by giving Nathan a place to live on the outskirts of the town, seeing as he used to be heavily into the party life, but nowadays Nathan appreciated living in solitude.  
He fumbled with his keys to unlock the door to the basement, and dragged Jefferson inside, dumping him on the chair in the still unlit room. He grabbed some zip ties he had prepared on the table, and tied Jefferson's wrists on his back, before binding each ankle to a leg of the wooden chair.  
Yeah, he had really overdone it with the Lorazepam; Jefferson's head had rolled back down on his chest, and his eyes were half-closed. Nathan was mesmerized by this completely new perspective of things, paced around him, eyes locked on his teacher's half-conscious body, before he switched on the lights, and sat down on the ground, just in front of the chair.

_________________

_Everything was a blurr, and the sharp brightness he was exposed to hit him like a strike. A shadow loomed over him, had been here for a while now, and god, it was so cold._

_A hand on his bare shoulder, and he was turned away from the light, hearing himself sob softly._

_"Ssshh, Nate, it's just the drugs wearing off." Hands tugged at him, and he felt like he needed to shield himself, but he couldn't move. He was wrapped up, devoured alive, and suddenly, there was no ground beneath him anymore.  
"Go back to sleep."_

_________________

Jefferson woke up with a pained moan, instantly whipping his head around to try and make sense of his surroundings; it was probably hard without glasses, though Nathan never knew how bad the other's eyesight actually was. Hopefully he could still see the little personal piece of hell Nathan had created for himself, because now it belonged to Jefferson, too.  
He had to salvage and improvise quite a bit, and it wasn't nearly as luxurious as The Dark Room, really; the ceiling and the walls were cracked, exposing the red bricks underneath the white plaster. But the backdrop was there, the camera, spare equiptment, storage areas and a leather couch. In contrary to their old hideout, there were even several wooden doors, leading to other rooms; many of them would be useful for this little game he and Jeff were going to play from now on.  
"Calm down, Jeff, it's just the drugs wearing off."  
His voice was soft , and didn't have much of the cold tone he had aimed for, but it didn't really matter that much. Nobody would care. He stood up, slowly, before leaning in close.

"Bedtime is over. Now it's time to wake up."


End file.
